Can't sleep...



Random thoughts running through my brain keeping me awake:



* Preston told me tonight when he gets big he is going to have sixteen brothers and sixteen cars. Hmmm. I clarified, "sixteen brothers or sixteen sons?" Sixteen brothers. Guess he'll have to get another mom, and dad for that matter- one that can afford sixteen cars. These aren't regular cars. They will have two TV's each. Then he informed me that the policeman was going to give him sixteen brothers. Phew. What a relief, that is, as long as he is going to raise his own brothers.



* Ever tried CrossFit? Let's just say it puts P90x to shame. I guess, as my brother-in-law says, it's like comparing apples to oranges. But, after ten minutes of a "toned down" workout every muscle in my body was sore for days. And I thought I was in pretty good shape... Hah



* Consider the amount of times you say the word "like" in one day. It has become quite a versatile word with all kinds of meanings. You can insert it into nearly every sentence at least two and maybe even three times. I've never heard the likes =} I had a competition this week with my niece and Emi to see who could go twenty-four hours without saying it. Emi won. She ended up taping her mouth shut to make it the final two hours. I think the longest my niece and I were able to go was two hours. And, whenever we were engaged in a real conversation we couldn't make it more than two sentences. It was, like, pitiful.



* Thought I was ready to get back into some classes. Modern political philosophy was the only one that sounded interesting. Great Political Thinkers, Montesquieu, Voltaire, Tocqueville, and Rousseau didn't sound too intimidating at the time. Then I bought the books. Hmmm. Maybe I'll reconsider and start with a literature class.



* My sister has been suffering from postpartum depression for the last five months. It's a scary thing, for those suffering from it and those witnessing it. Been thinking about it. Our lives are all so unique and individual and, yet, so similar. It's easy to think no one has experienced what I am going through and no one understands. While our experiences may be unique I think the feelings they produce are common. I think we can relate and empathize with one another more than we think we can. It's easy to stand on the outside looking in and think we have all the answers and know exactly what the other person should or shouldn't do. But I think that judgement distances us from our fellow human beings. At least, it certainly doesn't create compassionate feelings. Maybe the only hope of unity and influence is to set aside our trite opinions and really just get in there and love and care for one another. I think we have a lot more in common than we think we do.



* To go along with it, and this is a touchy one. Have you ever heard a juicy bit of gossip and thought you couldn't breath until you had gotten it off your chest. Or maybe it was just some interesting bit of information. Of course, always preceded with, "don't tell anyone, but..." I know I have, and plenty. It's irresistible. It's exhilarating. It's harmless, right? At least, we never intended to hurt anyone and probably we even intended to help. It wasn't until fairly recently I have come to know the true nature of gossip. I mean, we all know the scriptures say we shouldn't. But, seriously, how much harm can it really cause? A lot. I know from personal experience. As much as we think we know the truth of what is going on in another person's life, we don't. Maybe we know some interesting facts or grimy details. Maybe these came from some third party person and maybe these came from the first person. If they came from a third party person you can almost guarantee the facts have been misrepresented and certainly shouldn't be shared with another third party only to be further misrepresented. And if they came from the first person, that person probably was trusting you were someone they could talk to without fearing you would spread or discuss the intimate details of their life and feelings with someone else. Take it from someone whom gossip has severely wounded. And, next time you're tempted to pass it on, don't. It really hurts. No matter how much of an authority on the information you think you are or how much you intend to help. If you really want to help first, put a stop to the gossip {or don't start it} and second, go directly to the person and just be their friend. Have a real and sincere relationship with them. Be someone they can trust. Heaven knows we all need more of those people in our lives.



I'll get off my soap box now ;}



* What is it with kids and selling, or is it just my kids? I think I finally broke them of selling old trinkets they found around the house door-to-door. Last year Luke wanted to sell a pea pod for six dollars. He ended up getting ten cents a pod. Still a rip off. There was another time they didn't even try to sell anything but knocked on doors asking for donations to help the poor {it was after we had had a lesson on helping those in need. Maybe I drove the point a little too deep.} Even better was the time they knocked asking for help so we could adopt. Oh my goodness. It was a little better today. There is some dignity in selling hot chocolate and knitted hats. The questionable part was charging extra for marshmallows or sprinkles and putting a jar with the big letter "TIPS" taped across it.

Preston informed me just now that his “brave” is sleeping because it didn’t eat breakfast, so I need to be quiet. What is his brave, you may ask. I wondered, too. Then it occurred to me when I want Preston to go down stairs and get something and he doesn’t want to I say, “I know you are brave. Show me.” It usually works. For future reference his “brave” needs food to function.

We were in such a hurry to get to church this morning that we left breakfast sitting uneaten on the table. Turns out, this is not such a bad idea. The kids gobbled it up when we got home and before I realized it. Did I mention it was cold oatmeal? Ugh. But hey, I didn’t have to make lunch.
Just as Preston’s brave sleeps when it doesn’t eat, Lucy’s already lacking docility goes out the door when she is sleep deprived. We had a late night on Friday and an early morning on Saturday, obviously not a good combination.

I spent a lot of time at my Grandparents in Lewiston, Ut growing up. I especially loved the fourth of July celebration. We hopped, or rather slugged, into the car at six a.m. for the hour and a half drive North. In preparation for the parade we parked across the street from what used to be my beloved Grandparent’s home. It’s so sad to see the state of what was their home for so many years. They took such immaculate care of it. But the sight, feel and even the smell of the small town flooded me with warm memories and feelings.

We started the day with breakfast put on by the local fire department; pancake, eggs, hash-browns and ham. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Following breakfast is the parade. That was quite an experience. The average American kid will dive for candy when thrown at them. Lucy and Karina are officially American now {call them Ukrainian at your own risk.} But they are also officially Ukrainian citizens until their eighteenth birthday. Maybe it is the dual citizenship but diving does not sufficiently describe what they did. They seemed to ricochet from candy to candy at the speed of a bullet. No kid within a fifty foot radius had a chance of getting any, nor dared they try for fear of being socked {ok, this is a slight exaggeration but you catch my drift.} You would think no one at the orphanage had ever thrown candy at Lucy or Karina ;} I told them several times to gather candy only in front of our car and not to the other kid going for it. After several warnings I had to banish Lucy to car. She still managed to end up with more candy than anyone else.

Before the parade.

About halfway through the parade.

It’s in situation like this she tells me she is not Lucy, but Liuba. And although I couldn’t understand completely, from what I could understand she was going to send me to Ukraine. On a side note… When she is happy in America, she is Lucy. When unhappy, Liuba. But even when she is Liuba, calling her Vovke {her Ukrainian surname} is an unendurable insult and always results in incessant sobbing. This is dished out by Karina, in her tormenting moods. Karina, likewise, does not like to be called Sotnikova.

One of the few pieces of candy Preston managed to grab.

It remained a Dr Jekyl and Mr Hyde day for Lucy. One minute it was Liuba, the next Lucy. As the day progressed she transitioned entirely to Liuba.

At the movie. Movies are two dollars and popcorn and treats are fifty cents in Lewiston.

We watched fireworks with some friends that night. I'm not sure if the girls have seen fireworks before but Karina screamed several times and hid under the blanket.

I can think of no better way to spend the fourth than in the small towns of America. Call me sentimental. I am, I can’t help it.

We went to the drive-in theater this week. I think we need a bigger car.

Karina gave Lucy a halo of flowers.

Emi at her first ballet recital.

The girls eating one of their favorite snacks. Uncooked ramen noodles.

A slumber party.

You know something serious has happened when the dog is depressed. Rubee, our dog, was long overdue for a haircut when I got home. It took me a couple of weeks to get her in. When the day finally came I requested they cut her hair as short as they could. I have to say I’ve never seen a dog with such short hair. But I guess I can’t complain. They only followed my orders.

When we got home Rubee was really mopy. I didn’t think too much of it except for feeling bad I had them cut her hair so short. I had robbed her of her dignity. She probably felt naked. But she spent most of the next day in her kennel and wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t stop shivering and had a nervous twitch. After two more days of the same behavior I took her back to the vet. Nothing was wrong. They gave her a cortisone shot and said she should perk up in twenty-four hours.

Three days later she was still the same. She cowered under the couch or stayed in her kennel. Normally she runs if she knows we are going to put her in there. She would only eat and drink from our hands and even then only if there was no distraction. The vet said to call if nothing changed. So I did and she said to bring her back in.

Turns out the grooming was the final straw. After living with my parents for six weeks, then having two new girls in the house, and finally loosing her hair… Well, she had had enough. And to make matters worse she is suffering from her first bout of PMS. Her kennel became her refuge. {Sometimes I wish there was enough room in there for me, too.} Oh dear. I was worried about the hormone level in this house after adding two preteen girls. You mean to tell me I have to worry about the dog’s hormones, too? You’ve got to be kidding me. But I guess I can't blame the poor thing. I know how I feel after a bad haircut. Combine that with wacky hormones and two Russian speaking girls, one who won't keep her hands off you and the other jumps and screams evertime you come around the corner {Lucy is afraid of dogs. Poor Rubee doesn't understand Russian either and probably thinks she doesn't like her new hair-do. I'm sure it hurts her feelings.} I didn't realize Rubee was so sensitive. But she is a female, after all.

We had a minor eruption this morning. When I heard yelling from many different voices I rushed out of the bathroom to find Luke in an arm-lock with Karina, Liuba ready to strike and Emi down for the count. They were each banished to separate rooms, primarily so I could resist the temptation to join in. While I was taking my breather Karina and Lucy came in and said, “Emi, Luke, sorry.” Meaning they wanted to say sorry. So I gathered all five of them around the computer for a good lecture with the translator {thanks for the idea Wendy.} It’s ok to be angry or frustrated but we don’t hit in this house. We don’t kick. We don’t touch out of anger, only out of love. “Understand?” Yes. If we do make a mistake we look the other person in the eye, say, “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to do it again. Will you forgive me? I love you.” Then we give the other person a hug. “Got it?” Yes. We went around the circle, each apologizing to the other. It turned out to be a good bonding moment. Who would’ve thought? Not that I recommend fighting, but if it happens why not make the most of it? {Is that a good answer to your bonding question, Jami? This post is in response to your request, after all.}

After a little encouragement from my friend and after the girl’s breaking two of our small bikes {the ones with training wheels for four year olds} and one of our neighbor’s I decided I should make getting them bikes a priority. When there are so many priorities it’s hard to decide which one to put first. I wasn’t ready to drop a couple hundred dollars right now so after a suggestion from that same friend I went to D.I. to find a couple of bikes.

When I saw the selection I almost changed my mind about dropping the money at Walmart for something new. But Lucy and Karina immediately found what they wanted and wouldn’t leave without it. These bikes were in a sad state, to say the least. But the girls couldn’t be happier. So I gave in and spent the twenty dollars for their precious bikes. I couldn’t help but think if these were my biological kids they would have had a fit at the prospect of such a thing. What’s that law? The one about diminishing returns…
I was worried when they realized their bikes weren’t as nice as the other kids they would complain. Apparently there is nothing a little paint won’t fix. Karina got out the paint the next day and touched hers up. Unfortunately, they are still riding around the toddler tractor and bikes.

There are days I wonder what in the world I have done. The kids spent a couple of days at their Grandma’s and I’m a little embarrassed to admit I was glad. I was actually able to get the one room clean that I have been trying to clean for nearly three weeks. I was so thankful to have some peace and quiet. I wondered if I really even loved my kids. I determined I do love them individually but when you get them all together… Well, there are just so many of them and they’re so noisy.

In the chaos of the day-to-day living I don’t have time to think about how hard this really is. I get so caught up in trying to take care of everything emotional, physical and spiritual for these five kids. The process of providing for theirs consumes the whole of mine and there is simply no time or energy left to spend worrying about how hard this is. There is a huge language barrier causing stress not only for the two imports but for the originals as well. Needless to say there is a lot of emotional tension in the air. I guess it’s a good thing there is always so much going on because there is no time to brood and agonize over this. All I can do is take a moment and day at a time and do the best I can. It was only in my two-day break that I was able to question the sanity of this decision. However, I am relieved to rediscover in the days that have followed their return that I do indeed love them. I am glad to have them home, all of them.

What do you do when five kids want to sit by you at once? It worked with three, one on the lap and one on each side. It’s a little hard to explain to the original three that the most recent two need a turn, too.

My neighbor asked me the other day if I felt overwhelmed. I pondered for a minute and said no. I was still in shock. Only a few minutes later when, “mom, mom,” was coming from five different direction I determined I was officially overwhelmed.

When I had three yelling, “mom, mom, mom” at one time I could at least understand them and be understood. It’s a whole different ball game when mom is followed by what sounds like, “blah, blah, blah.” Following my hospital experience I developed an anxiety surrounding the Russian language, especially when spoken by middle age women. I’m trying really hard not to let that happen with the girls.

Lucy, never too far from Preston's side.

Having just recently come from Ukraine and feeling the frustration that comes with not understanding a word I can only imagine what these girls feel. I at least knew my visit was temporary. I wondered if there was anyone they would miss or if they would be homesick. My question was answered the other day when both Lucy and Karina sobbed for over an hour. I asked them what was wrong and they pointed to a picture of a boy in their class and cried harder. This was no fake cry either, it was a heart wrenching, inconsolable cry.

Lucy came upstairs the other morning very upset. She explained to me through her tears what was wrong. Something about Karina Sotnikova, not Karina Mary Bunch. Internet, not America. I asked, “Karina Ukraine, not America?” “Da, Da.” Karina likes to provoke Lucy. Lucy wanted me send Karina back to the orphanage in Ukraine. When I told her no she ran out and slammed the door.

I’m not sure the average American looks forward to the daily retrieval of mail. But to these two girls it’s like Christmas everyday. How are we so lucky to get magazines and postcards nearly everyday? And the phone ringing couldn’t be more exciting. Lucy answered the phone one day. I was ok with that since it was a sales call. “Blah, blah, blah,” uproarious laughter, then “Lucy Liuba Bunch.” It didn’t take long for the person to hang up. How often do you get hung up on by a sales person?

Karina getting her ears pierced. Lucy had hers done when she was here in the fall.

I had a hard time getting started today. Lucy could see I was upset. A few minutes later I heard dishes clattering in the kitchen. I took a peek. She was cleaning the kitchen. She washed the dishes, wiped the counters and swept the floor. I gave her a big hug and told her thank you. She must’ve liked that. She went through the entire upstairs straightening up. She even folded the laundry. Every few minutes she came in my room for a hug and a thank you. She did the dishes and swept twice today. I know as a mom you’re not supposed to have favorites and I’m not saying I do but today Lucy and I were friends.

We’ve had a few rough nights. I’m not sure what time the girls went to bed in the orphanage but they are definitely not accustomed to retiring while it’s light. When I say “Shpat” I inevitably get, “no, mom. Utra.” Meaning it’s light, with a finger pointed to a window. But, one thing I’m good at. That is recognizing my threshold. It’s really better for everyone involved if we not cross that. We’ve had more than one talk about not saying, “no, mom.” Instead, we say, “ok, mom.” I haven’t gotten through yet. Do you think I ever will?

Do you think they want long hair. These wigs were gifts from the Rast girls. They wore them all day, including to a dance recital.

Preston and Lucy have established a truce. If she kisses softly he usually doesn’t complain. If Lucy is coming at him and he really can’t take it he says, “no kisses” and holds up his hands. They like to play the “I love you” game. Lucy starts with, “I love you, Preston.” Preston says, “I love you, too.” They go back and forth several times. Lucy has become reconciled to the fact that Preston loves more than just her. On the way home from the airport she started to sob. I asked what was wrong and she said, “Preston liub lu Karina.” Preston had told Karina he loved her. I did the best I could at explaining it was ok. He still loved Lucy. She quieted down after that.

Remember the swollen cheek? Well we scheduled and emergency visit at the dentist office and guess what? The tooth had fallen out. I didn't even know. I looked that one time and didn't look again. It must've fallen out in the orphanage. No wonder the swelling went away. I guess our prayers were answered.

Preston donning Lucy's gift from the dentist.

The dentist office was a bit tramatic. All they did was take a few xrays of Lucy's mouth. I wonder if she's ever been to the dentist. There weren't any other immediate problems so we decided to wait a couple of months until she can understand a little more. There were a few tears but a toy from a special box cheered her right up. As we were leaving she even threw out an, "I love you" and blew a kiss.

As you can see we’re trying to call Liuba, Lucy. We’re having a hard time. I thought if I write her as Lucy I will become more used to it.

This is the blog I began on the night of my miscarriage.

Another day of waiting. I seriously questioned whether I would survive. We started at seven, driving to Novomoskov, an hour away. Strangely, the driving doesn’t even bother me anymore. There were several times Lena, my interpreter, screamed. I wasn’t even phased.

We waited only a few minutes for Liuba’s birth certificate. Ocsana made a trip to the City registers office yesterday so we had a head start. I thought it would be an all day process so this gave me hope we would finish sooner than I expected.

Bad expectation. After Novomoskov, Lena and I switched drivers leaving Ocsana with George to do other work. We then drove to Tomakivkov for Karina’s Certificate. I asked Lena as we walked in if we would be long. “No.” She said.

Thus, I wasn’t prepared for the four-hour wait. They had never done an adoption before. The worst part was after thirty minutes the only thing we were waiting for was the register person to figure out how to align the words on the document. The words were printing below the line and this wasn’t acceptable.

I could tell by the size of the town this was not a place I wanted to use the restroom. I was determined to wait but after three hours I thought I couldn’t. I asked for the toilet and was directed outside. “You have got to be kidding me.” I thought. An outhouse. And not only that, it was a squatter to boot. Turns out I could wait, after all.

We waited for another hour. Lena turned to me and said, “civilization hasn’t touched this part of the Ukraine.” Finally they figured out how to make their computer align and we were off to Dnipropotrovsk.

At this point I was told that Ocsana had made arrangements for me to start the girl’s passports today if we could make it to the office. This meant I wouldn’t have to wait over the weekend and holiday and I would be three days closer. Our chances were next to none because we took hours longer than we expected in Tomakivkov. To make matter worse we got stuck in a traffic jam in Dnipro. We met George and Ocsana with only minutes to spare. George raced to the office {he’s really good at that}. Ocsana barely waited for him to come to a stop before she took off.

Have you ever seen a woman sprint at full speed in four-inch heels, in the rain, over a Ukrainian sidewalk? It was a sight to behold. I never cease to be amazed by this red-headed fireball. My stomach turned as I waited. Would she make it? She came back with a victorious look on her face. She explained earlier someone told her if she got there by six they would help her, even though they closed at five. She said the door was locked when she got there but it was only two minutes to six so she pounded on the door and was finally let in. What she won’t do.

Irina and Oleg picked us up at 3:30 a.m. to go to the airport. It was bright enough as we left Kiev that I could see the landscape. I couldn’t believe I was leaving. Nearly six weeks ago I wondered what in the world I was doing and thought it would never end. I was homesick for my kids and home while I was still packing to go. I never expected I would feel the way I did as I left. I’m sure it was a combination of all that happened since my arrival. I did not expect it to be such an intimate and life changing experience.

There are many things I will miss, primarily the people. There are many things I will not miss, primarily the dirtiness and other people. Like the man we were detained by at customs, he did it on purpose. Even after our names were called several times on the intercom he still took his sweet time. He even had a smirk on his face. I thought we would miss our flight for sure. We would have if the flight attendant hadn’t come looking for us. I was sad to be leaving but I also didn’t want to stay for even one more day.

Irena and Oleg dropping us off at the airport.

Liuba, Lena and Karina were seated together on the plane. I was out as soon as the plane took off. When I woke up Melba told me the girls had ordered coffee for breakfast. I didn’t even know I had food in front of me, let alone they drank coffee. Oh dear.

Liuba had been saving her gryvnas and kopecs for days. When we got to Germany she wanted to buy something. She was a little dismayed to discover her money was no good here. Liuba’s pockets were always bulging with trinkets, gadgets and kopecs. She set off the alarms at security in Germany. We waited for probably five minutes for her to empty and reload her pockets, all that saving for nothing. Once we landed in Chicago she asked for her ten American dollars. I’m afraid we won’t be following through with that ritual in the States.

Liuba refilling her pockets after security.

We were hungry when we got to Chicago and stopped for a snack. I asked what they wanted. They chose a banana and chips. I asked if they wanted a muffin. It was unrecognizable and they said no. Poor things. Nothing looks the same, sounds the same or tastes the same. They are in for a big change. And having just come from that same situation I can totally empathize.

Other than the coffee and a fist fight between Liuba and Karina over the air somewhere between Colorado and SLC our day was uneventful, though very long.

I hardly know how to feel about finally being home. I feel so dazed but so happy. Thanks to everyone who came to the airport. It was so good to see all of you. And thank you so much for all of your support and prayers. We couldn’t have survived without them. Spacibo, spacibo, spacibo.

We’re home now but before I write about that I have a couple of blogs I wasn’t able to finish. For my own memory I want to finish them. I will start where I left off.

While we were waiting to legalize documents at the Ministry of Justice Irina took the kids to begin their medical exams. When we finished Oleg rushed us to the medical department to meet them.

I’m not sure I have ever experienced the chaos that I did on this day. You know those documentary/educational movies on ants. Some how a camera gets inside the nest and all the viewer sees is ants everywhere going in ever direction, crawling over one another to get where they need to go. And yet in that confusion there is order, nearly impossible for the viewer to see. There are soldiers, workers, nursery ants, eggs and of course, the queen. And the whole point is family increase. Every ant must do their part. It is a fine balance. But lurking somewhere nearby is the accursed anteater threatening complete destruction. If there is one wrong move…

I’m not sure what role everyone played. I do know that Oleg and Irina know and work the system like the back of their hands. They seem to be everywhere at once, striking chords at just the right moment, the model of perfection. My presence is only for looks and an occasional signature. I learned early on to give up any pretenses of control. To go and do what you are told as quickly and cooperatively as possible is your best hope of success and happiness when adopting in Ukraine. It is the only way to avoid the anteater. I never figured out exactly who or what the predator was. Probably it had many aliases. I only knew it was ever present and lurking, hungry for a tasty meal of Americans and orphans. Thankfully the crew proved to be more than competent and I felt completely comfortable placing full confidence in them.

People selling veggies and other items on the streets of Kiev.

In order to get visas the girls had to have a medical exam. The medical center was a step up from the hospital I was obliged to visit. Apparently it serves only foreigners. So they put their best foot forward. Still, that foot was not covered with a stiletto but rather something more like a flip flop.

Right when I walked in Irina ushered the girls and me into the doctor’s office. Almost right away I discerned the doctor possessed the same personality as nearly all of the other authorities and officials we have worked with. From what I have experienced, which certainly isn’t much, the average Ukrainian is abrupt and intimidating, yet kind and wise at heart.

Her manner intimidated and frustrated me right away. These kids have been told their whole lives they are stupid and no one wants them. It makes me so angry. This doctor was no exception. But when you stop to consider it is obvious these authority figures are not trying to be mean. In fact, they care. Still, they speak their minds freely with no consideration to another’s feelings.

When I walked in she pointed me to a chair and proceeded to look over the girls’ medical records {all handwritten in notebooks.} I assumed she didn’t speak English. Let me just say right here that this is a very BAD assumption to make. This assumption put me in more than one sticky situation. When she finished she looked up and explained in fairly good English that she needed chest ex-rays to check for TB but everything else seemed fine.

The escalator leading to the subway. It is three stories down.

She stood up to begin the medical exam and then asked me if I had children at home. When I told her three she looked at me hard and barked, “That is not enough?” My blood instantly boiled. Who was she to say something like that to me. I told her no. I wanted these, too. She didn’t like that answer. Just in the nick of time Oleg’s head appeared in the door and he whisked me off to make signatures and payments.

When I went back in she had softened somewhat. She sat me down again and proceeded to give me a lecture. I also had time to simmer and decided to listen to what she had to say. Surely there would be something of value.

Notice the carpet. This is the first carpet I've seen here.

In her broken English this is what I got. She began by telling me that this is a very bad time to adopt. She doesn’t recommend it. {It’s a little late for that.} She said when young children are upset they throw a fit. “Blah, blah, blah.” But the next day they are fine. Kids this age hold things inside but they don’t forget. You never know what they are thinking. Then she told me her father remarried when she was this age and it was very hard for her. From what I understand she didn’t bond well with her new mother. Then she said these kids have no foundation. They are raised in an institution with no father and mother. They don’t have firm understanding of right and wrong. She said you must be firm but not too firm. She held up her hands indicating there is a narrow passage for proper discipline. She said in the states there is too much freedom. Kids don’t learn respect for their parents and others.

In the end she told me she thought I was crazy and wished me luck. Not a bad lecture, if I had to be lectured. I must admit I am becoming quite a pro at being on the other end of them.

From the medical center we went back to the Department of Justice, to the Embassy and back to the medical center. Oleg and Irina were only slightly frazzled by the end of the day. I was dazed enough to not recognize any of the buildings when we made our return trips to them. In fact I didn’t even realize I was in the Dept. of Justice building until after I walked in and sat down. Maybe it was the lack of the sardine effect. This time it was empty of people.

On the train.

The apartments in Kiev’s city center were occupied so we stayed on the other side of the river. To date it was the nicest apartment I’ve been in. Too bad it was the last. The adults went to the market and left the kids at home. With them we left eight bananas and four apples. When we came back they were gone. You cannot believe the way they eat fruits and vegetables.

The bathroom on the train. What I wouldn't give for even an airplane lavratory.

Yana was able to spend our last day in Kiev with us. She arrived in the morning. The kids were still sleeping. I rubbed Karina’s foot to wake her up. She opened her eyes and jumped out of bed in the same breath. She adores her sister. When Yana left that night Karina would not let go of her. Oh, it was so sad. Yana hugged and kissed me twice. I assured her Karina would keep in touch. Karina woke up in the middle of that night crying for her sister.

All we had to do on our last day was visit the Embassy twice; once in the morning to drop off passports and sign some things and then in the afternoon to make more signatures, pick up visas and immigration paperwork.

When we came out of the Embassy Oleg told the girls we were successful in getting their visas. Liuba through her arms in the air and cried, “victory” and said something about America. All the girls jumped up and down passing out high fives and hugs. They were going to America. I wish I had my video camera.

Amy and I wanted to say goodbye to Ocsana and since we were staying near where she lives we spent the evening at her apartment. I got to meet her two boys. They are adorable. Every question I asked her six year old in Russian he proudly answered in English. So cute. Her four year old was the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen with curly blond hair and blue eyes. Oleg and Ocsana have struggled with him. He was normal until he was two and then over the course of a year he digressed back to and infant state. He is autistic and Ocsana is convinced it is due to immunizations. She has him on a special diet and thankfully he is improving.

In Ukraine there is next to no hope for a person with special needs. There are no programs or schools to help. They are scorned and shunned. To be called retarded or crazy is the worst insult a person could receive. It is heartbreaking. The kids at the orphanage were always calling each other crazy. They would point their finger to their temple and twist it. The person inflicting the insult laughed but the insulted did not think it was funny. Their lips smiled but their eyes showed obvious hurt.

I cannot say enough nice things about Ocsana. She puts her whole heart into these adoptions and is absolutely amazing. {Sorry to embarrass you if you’re reading but I have to say it :}

P.S. Aunt Lana, you should feel honored. Irina is great just like you.